


The Fallen Paragon Part #4

by Royxec



Series: The Fallen Paragon [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Protective Dean Winchester, SPN Hiatus Creations 2020, SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge, Spn fan fiction, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royxec/pseuds/Royxec
Summary: Exhausted from a long series of chained back-to-back Hunts, as well as taunted by a yearning for a more stable life, Sam Winchester begins to reminisce about the good old days of his College years; prior until everything changed in one unforgettable night. So in effort to sate his ever growing desire, Sam swallowed his fears and began to long process of attempting to reconcile with those he once knew before the chaotic shift of both fate and time. And though it seemed hopeless, for the countless faces he once knew had long forgotten him, Sam was able to reconnect with at least one Soul he knew so long ago. And despite the overwhelming distance and prolonged time that that seemed to pass before being able to reply to each new message or text, Sam did his best to keep in touch with his friend regardless of the strain it put on him. Nevertheless, following the 5th dead end case in a row over a group of untraceable Hex-crazy Witches and a collection of missing Hunters, Sam had enough; he needed a break. And he would not take "No" for an answer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Orginal Character
Series: The Fallen Paragon [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117433
Kudos: 1





	The Fallen Paragon Part #4

**_Chapter #4: Snatched and Seized_**

“‘Lone Wolf?’” Dean grunted, leering over from the front seat of the impala to glare at Castiel who currently sat in shotgun. “That’s what you choose to call him? And since when can you foresee another’s future by just looking into their eyes?”  
“There are many things you still don’t know about me Dean.” Castiel replied, unvexed. “There are still countless secrets I have yet chosen to share with you or Sam. But yes—I can see the fate of one’s soul by looking into their eyes. I am an Angel after all.”  
“Still we are lucky he didn’t freak out when you did that! Let alone cast us out from his home.” Dean scoffed. “Most of the time when people learn you are an Angel and or see you overstep like that buddy, they tend to become alarmed.”  
“I sense this is not the first time he has seen an Angel nor any other supernatural being.” Castiel muttered. “Also, when I gazed into his eyes, the amount of life experience I sensed he has gone through is almost triple of what it should be.” Castiel pressed his cheek into his fist next as he leisurely leaned to his right. “He is, as one once put it, ‘an old soul.’ One who has lived countless lifetimes, despite the limitation of their fixed mortality.”  
“Whatever,” Dean grumbled. “I’m just glad we got to go to the market and pick up everything including beer!”  
“True, but did we need three shopping charts worth of food and other necessities?” Sam snickered. “We are staying at most perhaps less than a week.”  
“Hey, don’t question me Samantha!” Dean grunted, glaring at Sam with a stern expression from the rearview mirror. “If I am going to be stuck here at your ‘buddy’s’ house, forced to obey his rules and such without so much as a say in all of it in the long run, then I am going to live it up how I choose to!”  
“Very well, Dean.” Sam sighed. “But remember this: If James finds you drunk as a skunk in whatever room he grants you, or sees you acting strange because you are drinking too much, he will most likely preform whatever nursing protocol he was trained to do on you firsthand. Such as pumping your stomach and placing you on Disulfiram thereafter!”  
“Don’t know what that is, and I don’t care.” Dean replied. “I’ll take my chances. The only thing I know is he better be a good cook and host, or we will not be staying here again!”  
As the two brothers conversed with one another, ever oblivious to their beloved companion, Castiel, the angel himself, jerked suddenly without warning. Fixating his gaze thereafter on something in the distance, Castiel’s once stern expression shifted instantly to that of dread. “Something’s wrong…” The blue-eyed angel said, his face flushed and his eyes wide with concern.  
Immediately, both Winchesters silenced themselves and waited for an explanation. However, they received none. For at the moment, the blue-eyed angel seemed too distraught to speak—hindered completely by whatever dilemma confounded him so. Castiel remained silent; his facial expression horrified and his body unnervingly still.   
“Cas…” Dean grunted, easing on gas petal the until the Impala came to an abrupt halt on the neighborhood street. “Cas?” Dean repeated, his heart beginning to beat faster and faster with each passing second. “Come on buddy, you gotta work with me here. You can’t just say, ‘somethin’ is wrong,’ den go dead quiet on me!”  
Castiel said nothing. Although, his eyes did shine brightly with a divine glow for a second or two before they returned back to the normal, luminous blue that Dean cherished ever so.   
“What?” Dean sputtered. “Your Mojo acting up on you?”  
Again Castiel said nothing; nevertheless his eyes did repeat the same flashing pattern as they did once before. The only difference this time was the fact that Dean himself could see beads of sweat begin to form on his best friend’s brow.  
“Cas!” Dean said, shifting the Impala fully into park before thrusting himself to grasp Castiel. “Cas! Speak to me!”   
“Easy Dean!” Sam ordered. “Back off!”  
Pushing his brother aside so that he could examine Castiel without hinderance, Sam lurched himself forward and sighed. “Give Castiel a chance to recover before you go shaking him.” Sam said. “I’m just as worried as you.”  
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Dean sneered. “He’s…”  
“Yah, yah, your best friend, Profound boyfriend, etc… I’ve heard it all before!” Sam rebutted. “Just let me get a look at him first before you overstep! Or else we might miss something!”  
Dean grumbled, then swore under his breath; but he did obey. Permitting Sam to proceed first, Dean begrudgingly held himself back as he watched feverishly with panic.  
“Alight Cas,” Sam muttered. “I’m going to try something, so bear with me.”  
Sam slowly placed his main hand on Castiel’s back, then used his other to touch his friend’s face. Upon doing so, Sam instantly felt damp and chilled skin. As for his main hand, Sam could feel a weak, but constant, ongoing tremor. Finally, when he gazed into Castiel’s blue eyes, Sam could see the continuous flicker of angelic grace, repeatedly attempting to surface forth time and time again, before something more powerful seemed to push it back into check.  
“Rigor mortis?” Sam said softly. “Or is it a tonic seizure?”  
“What the hell is that?” Dean asked.  
Ignoring his brother, Sam sighed loudly. “But that wouldn’t make any sense—you are not dead nor should you be suffering from a neurological disorder…”   
Suddenly Sam felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. Leering over his shoulder as he began to ponder who it was, despite he was already preoccupied at the moment, Sam ignored his phone and continued on with his examination.   
“Aren’t you gonna get that?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse with a sarcastic tone.   
“No,” Sam replied. “It can wait.”  
Sam’s phone buzzed again, but this time it was more persistent. Sounding twice this time back to back, Sam’s phone called out annoyingly.  
“Crap,” Sam muttered. “It must be urgent.”  
“Urgent?!?” Dean huffed. “I doubt it! Nothing is more urgent than this!”  
That moment, Dean’s phone buzzed twice, repeating the same sequence as Sam’s phone did before his.  
“The Hell?” Dean muttered. “Now mine too?” Ignoring his phone, Dean pushed himself past Sam and began his own inspection of Castiel. “Screw it, I’ll answer them later.”  
“Dean!” Sam said, now his own voice sounding panicked. “Look!”  
At first, Dean did not want to dare take his eyes off Castiel, but he knew he could not just ignore his brother. So with a low grunt, Dean turned his gaze onto Sam. “What?” He grumbled.  
Sam rotated his phone’s screen towards Dean, then paused. “Are you seeing what I am seeing?”   
Upon inspection, Dean read the following:  
“{aRr!er.”   
It was a text from Castiel. One that was not only recent, but it looked like it was written in a panic too.  
“First off, I’m not going to try and even say that aloud…” Dean replied. “Two: What the Hell is that supposed to mean anyway?”  
Sam did not answer. Instead he just showed his brother the next few texts he had received from Castiel just a few seconds ago. They were the following:  
“{aRr!er.” & “^e #it @ {aRr!er.”  
Both text were recent and seemed to be composed in the same, surreptitious way.  
“Dude, check your phone!” Sam ordered. “Maybe Cas tried to reach out to you too.”  
Dean did not need to be told twice. He swiftly reached back into his pant’s pocket and pulled out his phone.   
“What does your’s say?” Sam asked.  
Dean just shook his head and flipped his phone around so Sam could read it himself.  
“1 (@nt ^^0ve.” & “T#I$ @&E@ #@$ 8eeN ^^@arDeD!”  
“More gibberish,” Dean muttered.  
“True,” Sam replied. “But at least we now know Cas is able to communicate with us—somehow and someway—and he is ok too.”  
“‘OK?’” Dean growled. “He is stiff as a surfboard! How the Hell is he ok!?!”  
“Don’t shoot the messenger dude!” Sam said, backing off slightly to gain some space. “All I was just saying was…”  
That moment, both of the Winchester’s phones buzzed again simultaneously. Leering down together at the same time, both brothers read their text as best they could.  
“I $eN$e ^^1C#e$ Ne@R8y.” “J@mE$, I# CRo$$F1Re.”  
“Dang it Cas…” Dean sighed. “I can’t read this!”  
And yet, strangely enough, Sam could.  
“I think it says, ‘I sense… something nearby.’” Sam muttered. “As for the second part, it says, ‘James, I— Crossfire?’”  
“James-I-crossfire?” Dean said, narrowing his eyes. “Your friend’s last name is ‘Crossfire?’”  
Sam just shook his head, then scrolled back up on his phone to read the other text as best he could; including Dean’s as well. “Arrier…” Sam muttered. “E, it a arrier…”  
“Barrier?” Dean asked.   
Then it all started to click.  
“We hit a spell barrier!” Dean grunted. “And that means it was a hidden one we couldn’t see before.”  
Sam nodded. “Yes, that would explain why Cas is unable to move and speak.” Sam concurred. “And it must be one far more powerful to not only ward off angels, but it has the ability to enfeeble them drastically as well.”  
“Ok, so then—that means, ‘1 (@nt ^^0ve’ means: ‘I can’t move’ and T#I$ @&E@ #@$ 8eeN ^^@arDeD—means most likely….”  
“This place is warded.” Sam interrupted. “Which leaves, ‘I sense, ‘something,’ nearby,’ and ‘James-I-Crossfire.’”  
“Well the only thing I can think of that is powerful enough to screw with Cas—besides your’s truly—is other angels, demons—such as Crowley… And, maybe witches too?” Dean snickered. “But—”  
“Drive!” Sam ordered, raising his voice almost to a bellow. “NOW!”  
“Wait, why?” Dean asked.  
“DRIVE, DEAN!” Sam ordered again. “What Cas meant was, ‘James is in the Crossfire!’” Sam lurched forward and shoved Dean back into the Driver’s seat away from Castiel. “And what he sensed was most likely witches! The very same perhaps that I was talking about when we arrived!”  
“Alright then, Sam.” Dean grumbled. “We’ll drive back to your friend’s place and check if he is safe, but the priority here is still Cas.”  
“Cas is an all knowing, powerful celestial being who has survived worse than just being petrified in place!” Sam snapped. “But James is human, like us. And if these witches are the same ones that are taking out Seasoned Hunters with ease—then James doesn’t stand a chance! Especially if he is the one they are hunting!”  
“I doubt the witches are hunting James.” Dean sighed, brushing off Sam’s orders. Starting the Impala slowly at his own pace, Dean leaned himself back into the driver’s seat and grinned. “But if they are, then they’ll get double the payback for messing with our friends.” Dean then looked at Sam in the back of the rearview mirror. “You were right Sam, I’m starting to enjoy my stay here. We have a hunt to get to right out of the gate!”

**********

Slowly Dean pulled up into the driveway of James’s house, his off hand on the wheel of the Impala and his main hand on his best friend. Narrowing his eyes slowly as he examined the area around them, Dean slowly began to list off the abnormalities he noticed quickly out aloud. “The garage is open, and I recall Cas closing it prior before we left.” Dean muttered. “Also if you look forward, the door to the house, which was originally locked by you Sammy before our departure, is now ajar.”  
Sam’s phone buzzed loudly, which in return caused Sam to instantly answer it. Pulling it out swiftly, for he knew already who the text was from, Sam read the message.  
“T#I$ PL@c& I$ ^^@R&d t00.”  
“Cas says,” Sam muttered. “‘This place is—warded too.’” Dean grunted, then shook his head. “Then it is just as you thought Sammy.” Dean said slowly. “James might be in danger.”  
“Yes, and unfortunately our supplies are all under the horde of groceries you bought, and we don’t have the time to get them out before it might be too late!”  
“Then we’ll improvise, Sam.” Dean replied. “We already know where James is supposedly located in the home. So we’ll make our way up to his room and look for clues there first.” Dean turned to Castiel next. “As for you Cas, since you can’t move and all, Sam and I are gonna lay you down in the front seats so that if the witches come running—they don’t just see you and cast a curse on you.”  
Dean unbuckled himself first, then Castiel. Following that, with Sam’s aid, both of the Winchesters pulled Castiel towards the driver’s seat. Lowering him gently, the two brothers positioned Castiel in a recumbent position; thus securing his safety for the moment from an ambush. After that, both brothers drew their guns and exited the Impala.   
“Alright, Sam.” Dean muttered, locking the Impala the very second Sam shut the car’s side door. “We’ll go in together, but keep a short distance between us at all times. You head to the upper level and I’ll stay on the lower. If you see any movement or sense trouble, fire once and I’ll charge in to aid you.”  
“And I you.” Sam replied.  
Both brothers nodded, then cocked their guns. After that Sam and Dean entered the garage together.  
“Here we go!” Both brothers muttered.   
The first to enter the home was Sam. Ever cautious and collect, Sam quickly scanned his surroundings, then scurried forth as fast as he could towards the stairs leading to the upper levels of the house. As for Dean, the very second he entered the home, he quickly locked the door leading to the garage behind him, then hesitated for a moment. Keeping his focus on Sam, Dean waited until he saw his brother reach his first checkpoint without difficulty. Signaled silently to continue with a mere hand gesture thereafter, Dean nodded back to Sam, then proceeded forward.   
So far so good. Sammy’s at the steps without being spotted. Now for my turn.  
Dean raised his weapon and stepped forward a few steps and paused.  
_The first thing I need to do is make sure all entry points of the home are secure. If I do that, then the Witches can’t escape and I won’t have to worry about Sam being jumped by stragglers._  
Once both his flank and his front were clear, Dean dashed for the front door and slammed himself against it. Quickly locking the front door before daring to glare out the side window next to it, Dean grinned momentarily.  
_Alright, let’s see whose outside…_  
Dean pulled the white curtain ever so slightly with his gun, then leaned in forward to glare out the window. When he did, he instantly spotted a person on their phone, standing alone on the front porch-driveway next to James’s motorcycle. The person in question was female and their skin was dark-copper in tint. Height wise, Dean assumed that the female was almost as tall as Sam and was of moderate build at least. Other than that, the main characteristics that stood out to Dean was the female’s hair style and the shamanistic objects she used to decorate it with it.  
_We got one witch outside… So that means, there is a high chance we have at least one more witch in the home somewhere with us…_  
“Dean!” Dean heard Sam say urgently from upstairs. “Come quickly!”  
Answering his brother’s call without delay, Dean detached himself from the front door and ran towards the stairs. Climbing them as swiftly as he could, Dean darted to his brother’s side and grunted. “What is it Sammy?” Dean asked. “You hurt? Did you find James?”  
“I can’t find him anywhere.” Sam replied. “All the upstairs rooms are empty.”   
“Damn it,” Dean growled.   
“But that’s not the worse part.” Sam said. “Look.”  
Sam pointed down towards the ground. Baffled, Dean then sneered. “Crap…” Dean muttered.  
Before the two brothers was a trail of bloody footprints on the cold wooden floor. And though the blood seemed dry, following a second glance, both Dean and Sam could tell that the set of footprints was still fresh. In addition to that, the trail of bloody footprints was set out ambiguously; for it seemed that there was no signs of aggression, nor struggle. Whoever the footprints belonged too, either they walked away wounded, or merely jaunted forth, drenched in the blood of the other they had recently mutilated following a sudden squirmish. Regardless, neither Winchester enjoyed the sight of the trail of blood. Rather, it just spurred them forward to seek new answers to the questions that were left unresolved from before.   
“Do you think these are James’s?” Dean asked, before bending down to examine the blood trail further. “They’re huge—way too big to be the witch’s I just saw outside. They might belong to another intruder we have yet to locate.”  
“I’m sure they are his.” Sam replied. “James has big feet. Size 14 or 15, if I recall correctly.”  
Dean let out a low scoff, slightly bemused by the statement. “Didn’t know your friend was related to ‘Bigfoot,’ Sammy…” Dean muttered. “Anyway, they are going back towards the personal gym area I saw you eyeing earlier. Let’s follow them, and see if we can find any more clues.”  
At that moment, both brothers heard the supposed witch outside reach the front door. Attempting to reenter the house again thereafter, despite she soon found it to be futile, a loud racket began to surface; which in return alerted all others possibly still in the house that the brothers did not know of presently that something was amiss.  
“Damn,” Dean said, his voice low, yet blunt. “The witch discovered that I locked her out.” The eldest Winchester then stood back up and bolted forth, following the trail of bloody footprints to wherever it led. “Come Sammy—time to save your college friend.”  
Sam did not say anything, instead he just raised his gun and followed his brother slowly, guarding him from behind.  
The racket at the front door soon grew louder. Then following a few seconds later, a new sound emerged forth, one that the Winchesters were not prepared to hear.  
“Could you be any louder! Damn it, I hear you!” A boisterous, female voice roared. “The whole bloody neighborhood can hear you!”  
Instantly, Dean lunged backward to grab Sam. Shoving both himself and his brother into the nearest empty space, which in return happened to be the laundry room. Shutting the sliding shutter door next to obscure them both from view, Dean raised his gun and prepared to shoot whatever he saw approach near them.  
“Not that I’m going to complain about the hiding place, Dean,” Sam said with a whisper. “Great quick thinking and all… But of all places, you choose a laundry-closet to hide in? While ironically, you yourself, have yet to still come out of the closet?”  
“No offense, Sam,” Dean grumbled, slightly peeved by his brother’s joke. “You know I can always turn around and shoot you too, right?” Dean narrowed his eyes, focusing his attention on the sound of approaching footsteps from his right. “But for now, be quiet. We have incoming.”  
The footsteps slowly grew louder, ever echoing continuously in the distance until they themselves were so loud, that Dean swore that it had begun hailing outside.   
“For Hell’s sake!” The Winchesters heard the boisterous female voice say.  
Step. Step. Step. The owner of the voice came closer.  
“How in the world did you manage to lock yourself out!” The voice said again.  
Dean gently elbowed his brother to signal him to take aim through the shutters. “Get ready, Sammy!” Dean mumbled.  
Step. Step. Step.  
“It is already bad enough that we had to put up a magical barrier to keep all supernatural creatures out—including our allies as well… But now, we have Hunters in our midst?”  
Step. Step. Step. Soon, both brothers could start to see a shadow of an approaching figure around the corner of the distant hallway.  
“Dean,” Sam replied. “If they are witches, then our bullets won’t kill them!”  
Step. Step. Step. The figure was now almost fully in view to see.   
“Then shoot to wound and hinder!” Dean said. “Aim for the knees.”  
Then without warning, the figure abruptly stopped; halting right before they had just turned the corner and walked into the brother’s line of fire.  
“Damn…” Dean growled.   
Suddenly a strange, gravitational force pulled both Dean and Sam forth, ramming them through the sliding shutter doors, and right into the opposite wall that stood in front of them. Colliding into the wall at the same time, only then to be thrust back into the laundry room with even greater force again, both Winchesters dropped their weapons and fell to the ground with pain.  
“Dean!” Sam yelled. “Look out!”  
Before Dean could even react, Sam watched in horror as he saw his brother be pulled away by the same strange, gravitational force that had ensnared them before. Choosing this time to thrash Dean against the ceiling and back onto the ground repeatedly until he himself was struck unconscious, the gravitational force separated the two Winchesters; leaving Sam to fend for himself.  
“What do we have here,” Sam heard the female voice say. “So it must have been you who was the one who locked my sister out of the house! Clever—for an impudent fool…”  
Though Sam had been beaten and exposed alongside his brother at the same time, currently it seemed that he had not been spotted yet by the witch who had summoned the gravitational force to expel them from their hiding place. Scrambling forward to grab his gun feverishly before that factor changed, Sam rearmed himself and retreated backward towards the master bedroom.  
“Nevertheless, I know you brutes tend to hunt in pairs…” The female voice laughed. “And your ally’s outcry earlier only confirmed it.”  
From behind the corner emerged the witch, who in question was still using her powers effortlessly to her advantage to manipulate the surroundings around her. Choosing carefully to lift Dean’s limp body in front of her like a shield, the witch glared down the hallway, ready to strike at a moment’s notice the very second she saw her prey.  
“Come out, come out, Hunter!” The witch said. “Or I’ll kill your friend right here and now!”  
The witch talking was about six feet or taller in height and of average build. Her hair was long, black and curly, and her skin was dark-copper in tint. And though she seemed to be dressed casually in a modern day vest, medium sized dress and peach colored high-heels, the witch had a tribal-like pair of leather-hide spaulders resting on top of her shoulders too as well. In the end, though Sam only saw a quick a glimpse of it, the spaulders reminded him of a shamanistic garb that he had read about time and time again somewhere in the countless collection of books in the Man of Letter’s private archive. To why the witch was wearing it although, he was unsure.  
“I won’t ask again!” The witch said. “Show yourself—NOW!”  
Weighing the options in his mind, knowing that neither did not come without grave consequences, Sam chose the only option he knew was right. He had to save his brother at all cost.  
“Alright!” Sam reluctantly said aloud, as he hid behind one of the master bedroom’s closed doors. “I’ll come out, but just hear me out first!”  
There was no answer. Instead, there was only swift retribution.  
In reply to Sam’s request, he was instantly met with the same pull of the strange, gravitational force that felled Dean prior. Rammed thenceforward into the large wooden door he hid behind, just then to be flung back into the hallway like a common rag-doll, Sam was dragged back towards the witch at high speed. Ever helpless and unable to resist the otherworldly magic thrust upon him like he knew no other.  
“You don’t call the rules here, Hunter!” The Witch sneered. “I do!”  
Meeting the witch’s gaze within seconds while his body floated aimlessly a few inches away from the floor, unable to move nor retaliate unless elsewise permitted by the witch itself, Sam shuddered in place. “I’m sorry,” Sam forced himself to say. “We—My brother and I—mean you—”  
But that’s all Sam could say before he felt the massive gravitational force start to press downward on his neck.  
“Silence.” The witch ordered, using her non-dominant hand to cease Sam’s prattling while she used her main hand to dictate her control over the gravitational force that bound both of the Winchesters in place. “Don’t speak to me as if you are innocent!”  
The gravitational force increased its pressure around Sam’s neck, preventing him from speaking again out of turn.   
“You and your so called, ‘brother’ shall be met with the same amount of ‘kindness’ your own clique of trigger-happy goons so earnestly grant us normally on numerous occasions!”  
Sam’s vision began to wane, while the area around him grew darker with each agonizing second. His chest grew heavy and his mind’s ability to process what was being said to him slowed rapidly until it reached a sudden halt. Then, once Sam was unable to maintain his own will and keep fighting against the overwhelming odds, Sam fell unconscious. Hist last thoughts fixated on the importance of his brother’s safety, and of James’s own.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 4 the Fallen paragon series


End file.
